Mistletoe
by SYNdicate 930
Summary: AU. Aomine has been unsure of his feelings for longer than he would like to admit, unable to separate romantic attraction from platonic admiration when it comes to Kuroko and the rather ambiguous nature of their relationship. AoKuro. Late holiday fluff, drabble. Rated T for mentions of sex.


**Title: **Mistletoe**  
Author: **SYNdicate 930.**  
Summary: **AU.Aomine has been unsure of his feelings for longer than he would like to admit, unable to separate romantic attraction from platonic admiration when it comes to Kuroko and the rather ambiguous nature of their relationship. AoKuro. Late holiday fluff, drabble.

**Note:** Just an edited version of my response to a meme (the prompt was a nose kiss) on my Aomine RP blog not so long ago: **Bakaomine Tumblr**

—-—-—

Aomine has been unsure of his feelings for longer than he would like to admit, unable to separate romantic attraction from platonic admiration when it comes to Kuroko and the rather ambiguous nature of their relationship. The way the duo stare at each other with a wordless depth incomparable to his brief glances and held gazes with others give him the impression of expectation and understanding. Aomine notices the most minuscule of details, and can pin point with ease the things he likes about him, doubtful he would ever be able find in anyone else—but he could do that for Momoi, too, if he really tried. It just isn't as easy.

One day, Kuroko comes over after going for a quick bite at Maji's. As usual, Kuroko is still in the middle of finishing his milkshake as they throw out their garbage, and leave. It's abnormally cold this winter, and just looking at Kuroko and his milkshake makes Aomine shiver; the boy practically radiates ice and sends a freezing chill down his spine. The wind begins to pick up, strongly enough that the air produces a faint noise, as though mother nature whistling a fine tune, as it whips against the piles of accumulated snow, so they hurry to Aomine's house for shelter. Kicking off their shoes by the door, Aomine calls into the unlit house, curious as to whether or not his lovely parents had fallen asleep, but the absence of his mother's favorite winter boots and worn out sneakers of his father suggests an outing and empty home.

The house is decorated according to what his mother has seen from Christmas movies from overseas, especially in American ones. She has always adored the way they seem to over-decorate and liven their foreign homes accordingly. There is a tree set up against the wall beside the staircase with colorful lights, dressed with a Japanese flare as he catches a small with the Japanese flag on it, and other things representative of their beloved motherland, with gifts sitting at its feet cutely wrapped. There are wreaths hung against the wall beside the TV, and little bits here and there that remind him it's that time of year again, and how little time he has left to buy his parents the perfect gift.

"Aomine-kun, your shoes." Kuroko says, pointing with the index of his left set of numb digits. While Aomine's shoes sit in disarray, his left shoe lying uncomfortably on its side, Kuroko arranges his own neatly.

Aomine shrugs in response. "Doesn't matter."

They slip out of their jackets, hanging them in the spacious closet by the door, and saunter into the living room to watch some TV on the modest flat screen. They sit on opposite ends of the couch, with their arms propped against their arm rests comfortably, Aomine's slouching in a lazy manner against the suede as he yawns, flipping through each channel for something worthwhile.

"It appears as though it's gotten worse outside." Kuroko comments as they give the weather quick look over, the wind having picked up dangerously, temperature dropping vastly.

"How are you going to get home?" Aomine asks, knowing that getting to the train station from his house would be too much of a burden for Kuroko. Kuroko's natural inclination for the cold no longer matters."If you're playing on catching a train, you might as well stay the night. The station is still a long walk away from here."

"But I don't have any change of clothes or a toothbrush."

"Then borrow some from me, and spare toothbrushes given at the dentist are lying around unopened upstairs in the bathroom." Aomine yawns a second time.

Kuroko's hues radiate with warmth from an imaginary fireplace as he glances over. "Thank you, Aomine-kun."

—-—-—

The feeling in the room suddenly becomes sharp at the realization that they are alone together, that they could make as much noise, and do as they please without interruptions, or causing the disruption of others. Aomine glances over at Kuroko through the corner of his eye, who is concentrated on the anime playing on their favorite channel, apparently interested in the sheer violence of watching teenagers their age killing and being killed by horrifying titans. Kuroko's cheeks are still stained red, but due to heat, for he slips out of his sweater to reveal a nicely fitted white shirt, a little loose around the collar.

It then occurs to Aomine that they could have the loudest, hottest sex without any stops or having to worry about being caught, and the idea takes over his mind until the episode is finished, the credits and ending theme playing at a moderate volume, while Kuroko expresses the desire for something to eat. Aomine gets up and the two walk into the kitchen behind them, wondering what they should have to eat, and, more importantly, what they are actually capable of making, their skills a little below average, but their ability to leave a mess in the kitchen and open all the doors and cupboards childishly high.

In the end, they come across some left overs from breakfast the same morning, so they throw some rice into the microwave with two bowls of miso soup. Aomine catches himself watching the other once more, and, apparently, so does Kuroko.

"Is something the matter, Aomine-kun?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

They here the noise of something falling in the living room, so they step out to check only to see it is coming from the TV. Aomine's heart races, and he takes deep breaths to try and slow it, the thought of having broken something while his parents are away one of the only things to turn his tanned skin white with fear. With a small shrug and relieved sigh, he follows Kuroko back into the kitchen with his eyes closed, thanking whatever God exists that it was just the television, and, when he opens his eyes, collides into Kuroko standing in the doorway of the kitchen, staring upward.

"What are you looking at?"

"What sort of plant is that? I don't think I've seen it before." Kuroko inquires.

Aomine follows his gaze."Oh. That's this thing called 'mistletoe'. People hang it up in doorways around Christmas. My mom got it from American movies. Apparently when two people stand under it, they're supposed to kiss each other or something."

"Oh, I see." Kuroko mumbles thoughtfully.

"I don't know why, though. Sometimes I think she puts it up every year as an excuse to give me kisses every morning before school." He says with a shrug. Maybe it has to do with luck, not that Aomine believes very much in luck—Midorima does enough for everybody. Turning his attention elsewhere, his eyes land on the pair of sky blue eyes that stare at him intently, as if contemplating. "What are you looking at?"

"You have something on your face." Aomine wipes at his face hopelessly in response. "It's still there."

"Then get it off for me." He says, leaning down and allowing Kuroko's surprisingly cold fingers to brush against his face, using one hand to cup his rough features as the latter leans upward to place a small kiss on Aomine's nose.

"I got it."

"You've got something on yours, too," Aomine states, and moves to press his lips against the other's small nose. "Got it."

He takes an immediate liking to the doe-eyed way Kuroko stares at him, and the way his cheeks burn red. When Kuroko makes no attempt to speak, Aomine asks, "So, see anything on my lips?"

Kuroko gives a barely noticeable smile, tilting his face upwards to offer a soft peck. "Got it."


End file.
